The Art of Evil
by RandomGhostie
Summary: A new doctor, a new story. The Twelfth Doctor encounters the year 2023 where a painters work causes problems in London. Paintings come to life and trap the general public in their places. As more people get trapped in the paintings it becomes harder for the Doctor to decipher what is real and what is art.
1. Chapter 1

It was dark when consciousness flew in for the Doctor. In sight was the inside of his eyelids, and that was all. A bright light tried to push its way through but it only made the sight seem like it is glowing. Into his ears flowed the soft noise of something familiar, something that moved making noise as it did so. Almost like a beeping sound, but it was pulled out into a longer droning noise. All he knew was that it was familiar to him, accompanying this outside noise was the inside noise of his hearts beating in sync.

It took a few moments for him to realise that he felt a cool object pressing against his back. His hands were bare against whatever this material was; he thought it to be metal, wherever he was it was somewhere he knew. As though he had temporary amnesia, it suddenly all came back to him. Who he was, where he was and what he was.

But this was a new form of this, his former self was gone and a new one was in its place; as though it was a completely different person with memories of past lives. Susan, Ian, Peri, Romana, Micky, Donna, Rory, Amy, Clara, so many years, so many people gone for so many different reasons. Past regenerations weren't like this, they were full of excitement and wonder of what his new body and personality would hold. But this, no.

His eyes flickered open and he was met with green, it was a massive change to the metallic colours that usually filled the TARDIS. Glancing to the left he saw the silver metal glistening under the bright lights, oval holes in the flooring leading down to the bottom of the box.

Slowly pushing himself up a pain sprinted through his veins causing a hiss to escape his lips. He paused with his hands pressing against the metal, small oval shaped circles pressing into his skin and leaving light marks. It only took him a minute or so to get enough strength back to push himself fully up. It had been twelve regenerations since his first form, he was beginning to tire and each time it grew more painful. A groan escaped his lips as he put his weight onto his feet and grabbed a metal pole for support.

His head lifted up and he glanced around the TARDIS for the second or third time, everything was green. A dark green granted but it was still a green, his console seemed wider and the buttons stood out. They were lighter than the actual console, so they would stand out more. Looking up to the top he noticed that a jell type substance in the was in a glass container reaching the ceiling was changing colours. It was purple, and then red, and then green! It seemed to keep changing as though it was waiting for something to stick on. Not even a smile crossed the Doctor's face as he walked over to it staring. His eyes averted to the ceiling behind the glass container, around the edge of the walls were swirling designs of different shapes and colours. Something new.

Suddenly a thought occurred to him causing his eyes to widen slightly. "Oh, I look different don't I?" A smirk faded onto his lips as he slowly blinked and looked around quickly. Something inside him felt playful, but another side could push that away which would cause a smile to falter in a heartbeat.

Walking around the console he bent down seeing a few draws built into the console, he pulled open the draw seeing a mirror. Grabbing the mirror he looked into it wondering what he would look like now. Staring at his reflection for a few moments only one thought entered his head, it then flowed out his lips.

"Damn, still not a ginger."

His hair was short and messy, which he thought must have been his style. His eyes were a dull green; the spark seemed to be missing. The most defining part of his face was his jawline which seemed to stick out. It looked sharp enough to cut a knife. His body was lanky and he seemed to have gotten taller than his previous self, everything seemed different. But he liked it. Different was good.

Walking around the console a smirk crossed his lips, his insides hurt but he began to feel playful. But not just playful, he began to fell suddenly serious as memories flooded back to him from his previous reincarnations. Inside him a wall was built, from that moment he knew that something inside him would close himself off from everyone else. But that was a good thing, from previous incidences he realised that by closing himself off and building an invisible brick wall around him he would be able to save others from himself.

Glancing to the left away from the console he saw a screen, it projected an image of bright colours swirling in multiple colours and patterns. Walking over he glanced around it before a light bulb popped in his head. "Brilliant" He muttered turning back around and marching towards the console. He began to press buttons and flip switching walking around the control system as though it was a dance between him and his TARDIS.

A jolt of what looked like lightening flashed upon the screen and he looked up grinning slightly. It was a mad, insane type of grin, something only he would get. It only took a few seconds more of pressing buttons and turning switches for his hand to grab onto a red leaver. It stuck out the most against the other buttons; the handle was bright red as though it was an apple on a tree. Looking to the screen for a moment he smirked before turning back to the lever and pulling it down. He felt his body push backwards as the speed of the TARDIS increased and the flying became more hectic. He grabbed onto the handles under his console and smirked, his hair flying in every direction and at every angle. Only a few moments later something jolted the whole blue box, his feet lifted from the ground and slammed back down but his grip on the handles remained tight. Everything was moving fast while a grin was stuck on his lips, as though it was placed there and stuck down with super glue. His body slowly curled upwards from an arch to a straight line, he looked up at his console panel. His TARDIS. Behind him papers flew and lights flashed, it was chaos as he shot through time and space to a destination which was handpicked for one reason only, because it was meant to be.

It was written in time and space that the TARDIS would travel to this location and something would happen there and whatever that something was, there would be a reason for it. He was meant to travel to this destination, but what could the reason be? His thoughts were wondering over several different ideas of what could face him when a sudden jolt stopped the time travelling machine in its tracks.

But the Doctor wasn't prepared for that. He jumped up and fell backwards letting go of the handles and falling to the floor. He was lying down, face up, his back on the cool metal with the oval shaped cuts jabbing into his back. His hands flat on the surface. It took a few moments for his eyes to flicker open, he was met with green. A soothing colour after all the madness that he had just ensued. He pushed himself up quickly and glanced around, his back hurting just a little bit. But it was something which wouldn't be too noticeable after a few steps. His eyes darted towards the screen; it would show him where he had landed.

His eyebrows furrowed for a moment, his feet still. But a moment was all that it took; he walked around the console and up to the screen. His head tilted slightly and a hum escaped his thin lips. A cool breath was sighed out.

On the screen was a street, at either edge he could see greenery. His TARDIS had landed in a gap between two hedges! Only his luck. Looking out to the street he began to get his baring, he looked to the corner of the screen noticing the time, date and year. He chewed his lip for a few moments before a grin flashed on his lips. He had hardly the time to look at his attire before but now he glanced down and he saw a dark green vest suit type clothing, it had golden swirls on it making a random pattern. With the vest was a white shirt with the sleeves rolled back to his elbows. A green tie sat under the vest and on his legs were black trousers which matched his shoes.

Turning away from the screen he slowly walked towards the doors with a smirk patting the sonic screwdriver in his pocket and opening the TARDIS doors. Here he was, a new locations.

"Welcome to me." The Doctor muttered. "Welcome to twenty-twenty three."


	2. Chapter 2

Scratching his beard with his chewed nails a man stood in front of his painting. It may have only been finished an hour ago but he was already making notes on how he could improve in the future. Although he was a well-known artist, he refused to accept the title many critics had given him. 'Best artist of the twenty-first century' the magazines cried as his new pieces emerged. He had been staring at his work for a good ten minutes, analysing the details and colours used along with the directions which the brushes had moved in. Footsteps echoed behind him, however little attention was paid to it.

"Mr Ashworth, you have someone here to see you." Turning around the painter looked at his assistant with an arched eyebrow; a silence fell between them before a smile broke out on the painters face. "Please, Clint, you can call me Felix. I've told you that before!" He let out a hearty laugh before turning fully around to face his assistant.

"Sorry uhm… Felix. Miss Brogan- I mean Eliza is here to see you." Felix nodded once to Clint signalling that he could let the woman in. Nodding quickly and turning around the painters assistant went back out the room and down the steps to get Eliza. Felix turned back to the painting scratching his beard once more; however this time he was surprised to find the painting was not how he had left it.

Somehow, the colours all seemed to be a bit darker. They seemed to have a more purple hue added to them. Was he previously mistaken or was it how it looked in the light? A small humming noise slipped out the painter's mouth and he paused looking at the painting. Another odd thing that seemed to have developed was at the edge of the canvas, it seemed to be a lot darker than the rest of it; as though the colour purple was edging forward to get to the surface.

"Felix!" A high pitched voice yelled, immediately jumping out of his thoughts the painter turned around to look at the younger woman standing near the doors. With the usual hat placed upon her head and her hands on her hips she grinned to the man, her heels made a clicking sound as she walked forward to Felix. "Eliza! Lovely to see you" He called out taking a step away from the painting.

"Nice to see you too" She called back in her usual high pitched voice, he watched as her eyes darted towards his painting. She stood next to him and looked to the painting, her mouth parted slightly. Felix turned to face the painting once more glancing back down to the woman when he decided to ask a question.

"How is your father?"

"Oh he is good! Still talks about your adventures back in the day" She laughed slightly shaking her head a little.

"That's good. Any reason why you are dropping round then?" She turned to him with a questioning look, it was in that moment that he realised how rude he actually sounded. "Pardon my rudeness, didn't sound like that in my mind." He apologized scratching his neck and turning his body to face his friend's daughter.

"Never does really" She joked in a lower tone. "But yes actually, just looking for some inspiration. I've got the most horrible writers block you know, waiting for replies for my latest book from publishing companies is horrible. Just need something to write…" She trailed off at the end letting out a small sigh and shaking her head.

Walking into the room the painters assistant, Clint, held a tray of tea. Glancing over Eliza watched for a moment. Clint became clearly self-conscious in the curious gaze of this woman, his eyes darted around the room and a lump formed in his throat. He was walking as though he had two left feet. "You got any coffee?" She suddenly said loudly walking over to Clint who shook his head. Felix looked over and chuckled slightly.

"You remind me of your father sometimes. But it is a shame about your writing; your father sent me the last book of yours." Eliza looked over the tray before biting her lip and shrinking her face slightly.

"Ugh, don't mention that. I like it and all but I don't think it is my best work." She revealed moving her hand in a straight line and closing her eyes. Clint placed the tray onto a little table near Felix's painting equipment. His eyes flickered up and paused on the painting. His body moved backwards slightly, his eyes fixated on the painting.

"I think it was great, some of my work which I haven't been fond of has gotten the best critiques." Felix replied picking up a cup of tea and sipping at it. Eliza shrugged slightly and crossed her arms. Clint, however, was frozen staring at the painting. His arm began to rise and point at the painting sitting across the other side of the room.

"I guess" Eliza said looking at her nails and shrugging slightly.

"Uhm Felix? The painting?" Felix and Eliza both glanced to Clint with confused expressions, but when they turned to look at where the canvas sat they realised what he was looking at. Both of their eyes widened and they stepped back. The cup in Felix's hand slipped tumbling to the floor making an all mighty crash. They were all staring in shock at what was happening with the painting, something which seemed truly impossible.

A purple smoke was slowly seeping out the edges of the canvas; the painting seemed to be completely purple. Different shades of painting making the outline of the person in the painting, but dark purple sat at the edges and seemed to be leaving the painting. But as they watched it seemed to get thicker quickly filling the room.

"Quick, open a window!" Felix yelled. Eliza glanced to the man before running to the window and throwing up the latches. She pushed the window up coughing slightly as the gas began to fly out the window. Waving her hand in front of her nose she let out a small cough. She hardly had enough time to decipher what was happening before her eyes when a loud noise echoed around the room. It sounded like a door being slammed against the brick walls, then came the footsteps getting louder and clearer.

That was when a strange man ran through the door. Eliza looked to the man, as did Felix and Clint with confusion all on their faces as they stared at the man in a dark green vest. This man eyes however were fixated on the painting. A small laugh was heard making the three snap their heads around to look to where the painting was. There, standing outside the painting, was another man. Felix stepped forward, his eyes wide and shock pasted all over his face.

The man in front of the painting smirked to the painter. "Hey there, should I call you creator or dad or something? Ha!" The room suddenly felt cold. Everyone was thinking the exact same thing.

The man in the painting was now in this reality. He had jumped out of the painting.


End file.
